


Beetling; or, A Game of Cat and Bug

by Wolf_of_Lilacs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/pseuds/Wolf_of_Lilacs
Summary: A chase through the woods is disappointing, but Crookshanks would change nothing.





	Beetling; or, A Game of Cat and Bug

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redsnake05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/gifts).



> This is my first chocolate box exchange. [Nervously rubs hands together.] I dearly hope you like it. We were matched on Crookshanks & Mrs Norris of all things, and I was quite charmed by one of your prompts. :)
> 
> Thanks to RedHorse and StarsAndHeavyRain for help with the title, and to RedHorse for betaing.

Interpreter's note: Since our characters are of the feline persuasion, I have endeavored to describe the world as they see it. Given our difference in perspective, I may be entirely wrong.

*

The cat called Crookshanks (he tended not to call himself anything at all, but Crookshanks was adequate) met an associate, the cat called Mrs. Norris, near the best scratching tree at the Forest’s edge. She was ruffled and cranky, her dust-colored fur matted in places, one of her tattered ears flicking. "There's no misbehaving out here," she complained. "I have nothing to take back to Friend."

"Evening hunt with me," Crookshanks replied (with twitches of his whiskers and tail, a common means of conversation between cats). "You should get outside sometimes. The castle gets dusty and boring. There are never enough mice and things."

"Spiders," she contradicted. "Plenty of those. And misbehaving children. Friend is always happy when I tell him about them." She stretched onto her toes, peering around suspiciously. "I don't smell mice out here."

He didn't either, but he wasn't going to admit it just yet. "There's always something out here. The cat that isn't a cat, maybe."

"I don't like her," Mrs Norris murmured. "She tries too hard. Never ‘cat’ enough." She reared up at the tree, scoring her claws down the bark, then glared at him. "You just wanted to get me out here for fresh air."

"You should get out more," he agreed, shameless.

A night bird called out. An owl swooped overhead, the first of the evening they'd seen.

"There's nothing to chase," Mrs. Norris reiterated, tail drooping. "I've pounced on all the leaves. I've menaced all the weird little creatures that would hurt me if I ever caught them. Remember that horrible not-rat that kept getting away?"

"He ran off, far away," Crookshanks purred in satisfaction. "I'm glad he's gone."

"Right. That wasn't the point."

They both caught the rustle at the same time. A faint whirring of wings, a feeling of something far bigger than they could see.

"After it!" Crookshanks hissed, and they went, quick and silent. The beetle—or beetle-shaped something—ziggzagged just ahead of them, its glittering antennae waving tauntingly.

"Maybe we shouldn't catch it," Mrs. Norris hissed, slowing. "It could change and hurt us."

"It's not right. We have to catch it." Crookshanks redoubled his pace. She made a running leap to catch up.

"Let's try and trap it between us," Crookshanks suggested. Without waiting for her reply, he veered into the trees in an attempt to outrun it and drive it back. But it was faster than a beetle had any right to be, and he couldn't run quite fast enough.

"Friend would come if I called him." She was somewhat short of breath.

"He wouldn't like it," Crookshanks protested. "He'd just see a beetle."

"He _wouldn't_ like it," she allowed. "Outside is the Bigger One's place, with the dog." Her fur bristled at the mere thought of the dog. Always bounding loudly around the pumpkin patch, scratching at the door when he was locked inside, generally being a terrifying nuisance. Mrs. Norris had successfully landed scratches several times; he never dared approach her now.

Above their heads, another cat—or cat-resembling creature—pounced. It missed the beetle and caught a branch instead. Cats have no time for sarcasm, so Crookshanks and Mrs. Norris did not congratulate her.

Crookshanks backed away, purring to calm himself. It was the not-cat with markings about her eyes. She swished her tail in excitement. The beetle did not disturb her. She could not sense its wrongness. She pounced at it, missed again.

"Let it go," Crookshanks sighed.

"Why should I do that?" The not-cat turned around, her tail tracing discontented arcs.

"It's like you," Mrs. Norris said. "Not a beetle."

"I do not understand." She turned her back on them and went back to stalking, but in the moment she had been distracted, the beetle had disappeared into the undergrowth, forever unreachable.

“Well, I’ll find something else to chase, shall I?” The not-cat darted off. They did not bother to wish her well, anxious as they were.

"I'm going in," Mrs. Norris hissed. "Friend will have an idea what to do about it."

Cats did not envy, but if they could, Crookshanks would have wished Hermione understood him in the same way. But her magic was too loud, and she, like most wixes, never bothered to listen beyond it to smaller, less flashy things.

"You do that," he said, pressing his head against Mrs. Norris's shoulder. She nuzzled him in return.

*

Crookshanks brought Hermione outside. She came without the company of her wizards, carrying a book and a bottle of tea. She settled under her favorite tree.

A group of students with green on their robes sat under a neighboring tree. Hermione watched them curiously. The beetle was with them. Crookshanks could sense it. He let the fur bristle along his spine and glared at them. Hermione took notice, running a hand down his back to smooth the fur. "There is something strange about that," she said, studying the boy that held the beetle cupped close to his ear.

Maybe she'd learned, Crookshanks thought, hopeful. Maybe she would do something, this time.


End file.
